


Brave New Smut

by Brownies96



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale has a vulva, Bondage, Coitus Interruptus, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley has a penis, Crowley has a praise kink, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Other, Switch!Aziraphale, Switch!Crowley, aziraphale has a penis, no beta we saunter vaguely downwards, we been knew tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brownies96/pseuds/Brownies96
Summary: The "deleted scenes" from The First Day of the Brave New World and The Brave New World
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/others (mentioned), Crowley/others (mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place immediately after the events of The First Day of the Brave New World. Obviously, there will be smut, be smart, don't read it if it will make you uncomfortable. I've separated these from the main chapters so you don't need to read them for any plot-relevant stuff. 
> 
> [Ash and Ez, I'm looking at you. Be smart kids]

“Angel, I – “ Crowley began. It felt like he had to force the words out of himself. Swallowing them down every time they reached the tip of his tongue had been a habit for so long. He looked over Aziraphale, sitting politely on the hood of the Bentley, his hands clasped in his lap. All Crowley had to do was let the words out.

“I love you.”

Aziraphale smiled, “Wonderful.”

“Wonderful? I go through all that just for-“ Crowley demanded.

Aziraphale shushed him. “I'm not finished. It's wonderful, because I find I seem to love you too.”

That was what Crowley had needed to hear. He’d never let himself expect it, he’d never thought he’d get to hear it. He could feel the want coming off Aziraphale in waves now that he was brave enough to look for it. It was more than he’d ever really let himself hope. But it was here and real. For a moment, he wondered if the world had ended and this was his hoped and dreams flashing before his eyes as he died. But it couldn’t be. Not after everything they’d been through.

“Bastard,” he said, smiling.

Crowley moved across the hood of the Bentley to be closer to Aziraphale. He wanted to give his angel plenty of time to back away or to stop him, but Aziraphale was having none of it. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hands gently move to cup his face and then they were kissing.

It was everything and somehow not enough. Crowley knew that even if he was somehow lucky enough to spend the next 6000 or so years kissing Aziraphale he would never tire of it. Still he let Aziraphale pull away. Crowley couldn’t help but grin back at Aziraphale’s wide smile.

“To the bookshop?” Crowley guessed.

“If you please.” Aziraphale’s dimples were so clear even in the darkness.

Crowley lent forward one more time and pressed a chaste kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. He repeated the words he’d said so long ago, in a different time, a different life.

“Anywhere you wanna go,” he promised.

Crowley had driven to the bookshop more times than he could count, but never like this. He was so used to Aziraphale sitting primly in his seat, occasionally moving to berate Crowley about his driving.

Aziraphale said nothing about Crowley’s tenuous relationship with the speed limit despite the fact that the Bentley was hurtling through the streets of London at a steady 102 miles per hour. According to popular mapping software, the drive from the Ritz to Aziraphale’s bookshop could take anywhere from four to eight minutes. Crowley had them there in 117 seconds.

Aziraphale’s right hand twitched throughout the car journey. It wasn’t easy to resist the urge to rest his hand on Crowley’s thigh, but they hadn’t really discussed anything yet, and Aziraphale was afraid he might break the spell of it all, it was all too good to be happening.

The door to the bookshop opened as soon as the Bentley was parked (very illegally). Crowley stepped to the side to watch Aziraphale examine his newly restored bookshop. Aziraphale felt a wave of love crash over him. He turned to look at Crowley, who wasn’t doing anything but leaning against a shelf and staring at him. He was torn: He really did want to take the time to archive every single book in the shop, but there was something else he wanted to do more, or more urgently at least. The books would still be there in the morning, whether or not Crowley would be was something he would have to see to sooner. Did he still have a bedroom in the bookshop?

Crowley huffed then, and Aziraphale realised he’d been staring for quite some time. Well, Aziraphale thought to himself, in for a penny in for a pound. He walked over to Crowley with purpose, years of fearful habits screaming in his mind for him to stop, but he didn’t have to heed them anymore. He pulled Crowley into another kiss.

The kiss started out chastely enough, Aziraphale suspected that Crowley was holding back out of fear of scaring him off, or perhaps simply out of habit. They’d barely dared allowed themselves to touch before the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t. It would take a lot longer than one night to overcome the barriers they’d built, but Aziraphale was tired of waiting, of holding himself back. He deepened the kiss.

Crowley made a small noise of surprise but opened his mouth eagerly. Aziraphale would have smiled if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied.

Aziraphale knew what would happen next, or, at least, what he hoped would happen next. But in order for that to happen they were going to have to stop kissing and Aziraphale just wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. He could happily spend all of eternity kissing Crowley; he was so responsive, moaning slightly into Aziraphale as he bit gently against his bottom lip.

Humans would have had to stop for breath ages ago, neither Aziraphale nor Crowley were certain how much time had passed - the passage of time was something someone else could worry about for a change.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel for his past self, all those times in the last 78 years when he’d yearned to do this but hadn’t been able to.

Aziraphale did not whine when Crowley pulled away. At least not much.

“Angel, we should probably talk about this,” Crowley said and Aziraphale was so glad he hadn’t put his glasses back on since their conversation on the hood of the Bentley. His eyes were so filled with love and longing, it felt so familiar yet so new, it made Aziraphale wonder . . .

“We should,” Aziraphale agreed, “I have some questions.”

Crowley took a step away so he could spread his arms. “Ask away?”

“How long have you, erm –“

“Been in love with you?” Aziraphale could tell by the raised eyebrows that this was not the question Crowley had been expecting.

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied.

The tiniest hint of a blush crept onto Crowley’s face. Aziraphale waited, like he always did, Crowley always said whatever he was avoiding saying if Aziraphale waited.

“Six thousand and twenty-three years,” Crowley mumbled.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to look surprised. “That long?” he breathed, “Oh, Crowley, I was so horrible to you.” He shut his eyes as if he could get rid of all the memories, the times when he’d made himself see Crowley as nothing more than the enemy.

“You were never horrible to me, angel. You weren’t always great, but you weren’t horrible.”

“I was,” Aziraphale insisted, “you don’t deserve that from anyone, least of all me.” An idea occurred to Aziraphale, a way to get the conversation back on track. “But I suppose I have time to make it up to you now.”

Crowley made a choking sound. Aziraphale rather enjoyed watching Crowley realise that he wasn’t as naïve as most people assumed.

“Right. Yeah.” Crowley took an unnecessary breath. “So. About that . . .” He trailed off for a moment. “We don’t actually have to do anything, if you don’t want to.”

Aziraphale nodded, trying to keep a thoughtful expression on his face. He wondered if there was a way he could say what he was planning to say next and reduce Crowley to a stammering mess. He tried to make sure his voice sounded as prim as it possible could.

“And what if I do want to do something? Or multiple somethings?”

That got the reaction he wanted. It was nearly an entire minute before Crowley was back to forming words.

“D-do you even have a bed here?” Crowley managed to say.

“I think so,” Aziraphale said. He was pretty sure there was a door upstairs above where his desk was on the ground floor. Aziraphale walked over to the staircase, hanging up his coat on the way, he raised his eyebrows at Crowley, as if to say, ‘hurry up.’

Aziraphale opened the long-neglected door.

“You would have a tartan duvet,” Crowley said, apparently having regained his voice and his snark.

Aziraphale decided to ignore that, teasing Crowley further would have been fun, but it would get him no closer to his goal.

“You know,” Crowley said, his tone changing, “I didn’t ask, when did you . . .”

“I honestly don’t know,” Aziraphale said, taking a step towards Crowley, “I didn’t realise what it was until 1941.”

Crowley huffed, “Took you long enough.”

“You’re the one who’s taking their time now,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to Crowley’s coat.

“Whatever happened to me going too fast for you?” Crowley asked, and behind his careless tone, Aziraphale could sense real vulnerability. There would be time, they had so much of it now, for Aziraphale to explain himself. They could talk openly now about all of it. But this wasn’t the time.

“Go as fast as you want to,” Aziraphale said, closing the distance between them and kissing Crowley again. He carefully directed them both over to the bed, letting Crowley sit down before moving away from Crowley’s mouth and making his way down Crowley’s neck. He bit down carefully at the juncture where Crowley’s neck and shoulder met and was rewarded with a delightful moan. The sound made a jolt of desire race through Aziraphale, leaving him slightly breathless.

“Azira- Angel we should really talk more,” Crowley said undoing the buttons on Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

“We really should,” Aziraphale agreed, continuing his onslaught on Crowley’s neck, pushing the black jacket off his shoulders and off the bed. Where it landed was a problem for future them to worry about.

Aziraphale felt his waistcoat slide off his shoulders and decided he should probably get rid of his bow tie. He moved back up to kiss Crowley’s mouth again. As soon as he’d undone the tie, Aziraphale moved a hand to the back of Crowley’s head, enjoying the silky texture of his hair. His other hand made quick work of the three buttons that held Crowley’s vest on. Aziraphale felt his shirt being pushed back and shuffled his shoulders to get rid of it more quickly. There would be time for him to be self-conscious later, but at that moment, Aziraphale was too caught up in the knowledge that he could have _this_.

Crowley broke their kiss again, but slowly. Aziraphale was confident they’d get back to kissing soon enough.

“Pants aren’t coming off without a miracle, I’m afraid,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale was able to really appreciate how utterly wrecked Crowley looked: He had a trail of bruises down his neck, his lips were pink and slightly swollen, and, best off all, his golden irises were taking up his entire eye. Aziraphale drank it in, committing the image of it all to memory.

Remembering what Crowley had just said, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and Crowley’s ridiculously tight pants appeared, neatly folded, on the other side of the room, wondering how on Earth they had gotten there.

Aziraphale looked down and grinned, Crowley’s Effort was of the phallic variety. Oh he was going to have a lot of fun with that, both in his immediate future and much later.

“I can change it,” Crowley offered.

“You’ll do no such thing. Unless it’s because you want to,” Aziraphale said, running his palm up the length of Crowley’s cock, making him arch his back and groan.

Crowley regained his composure and raised his eyebrows. “That just isn’t fair, angel,” he said teasingly. Crowley snapped his fingers and Aziraphale found his own bottom half uncovered (there had been a great deal more layers for Crowley to get rid of). Aziraphale wasn’t even sure when he’d started making an Effort, but he was now.

“Fuck me,” Crowley said, breathing heavily as he eyed Aziraphale’s erection.

“Was that a request or an exclamation?” Aziraphale asked, trying to keep his voice teasing, which was difficult because all he could think about was how desperately he wanted Crowley now that he could see him all on display.

“Both?” Crowley suggested, raising his hips to grind their erections against each other. Aziraphale gasped at the sudden sensation.

“If you’re certain,” Aziraphale said, breathing heavily, despite not technically needing to breathe.

“Well, when you think about it, we have already been inside each othe-“ Aziraphale shut Crowley up with a kiss, leaning forward so Crowley lay on his back. Aziraphale leant over Crowley, giving him one last kiss (that went on for quite a bit longer than he’d meant for it to) before sitting back and admiring the sight before him.

He must have been staring for a while because Crowley snapped his fingers and a bottle of lubricant appeared before Aziraphale. “Angel! Get on with it. Please,” he whined.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said, not even remotely sorry, “I was distracted by how completely stunning you are.” And didn’t that make Crowley turn an interesting shade of scarlet.

Aziraphale picked up the bottle of lube that had suddenly been brought into existence and coated his fingers with the same meticulous attention to detail he would use to pour over his priceless first editions.

“Angel,” Crowley said impatiently.

But Aziraphale was determined to take his time with this. He ran his knuckle gently around Crowley’s entrance, using his other hand to knead a slender thigh. As gently as he was able, he pushed his finger inside. He stopped and looked up at Crowley as soon as he heard the first sharp intake of breath.

“Aziraphale, you aren’t going to break me, you can move,” Crowley said, impatient as ever. Privately, Aziraphale begged to differ: He had every intention of breaking Crowley, just in the most delightful way possible.

Though, even Aziraphale was not immune to impatience, his cock was begging for some kind of attention, but it was worth doing this right first. He extended his finger and crooked it, rubbing gently against Crowley until . . .

“Fuck! Aziraphale!” Crowley’s back arched so high his shoulders and hips nearly came off the bed. There it was. Careful to make sure the pleasure would outweigh any discomfort, Aziraphale added a second finger, then a third, taking great delight coaxing moans from Crowley’s lips.

“Angel please! Need you inside me. Now!” Crowley groaned after several failed attempts at speaking.

And who was Aziraphale to deny him? He’d been trying not to think about his own pleasure, but it became particularly difficult not to think about as he applied the lube to his cock.

He positioned himself at Crowley’s entrance, trying not to loom over him and failing. Crowley was far too preoccupied to care about looming anyway. Aziraphale lined himself up and carefully entered Crowley who immediately pushed back against him.

“Mm you feel incredible, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered in Crowley’s ear.

“Angel,” Crowley keened. “Move. Please.” Crowley rolled his hips enticingly, eliciting a small gasp from Aziraphale. Aziraphale angled his hips so he would brush against Crowley’s prostate with each thrust and began to move.

Crowley moved his hips in time with Aziraphale’s steady rhythm.

“Angel, please,” he breathed, “more.”

Aziraphale encircled Crowley’s cock with his hand and began to pump in time with his thrusts.

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with heavy lidded eyes. His cries had moved beyond language; moans punctuated by gasps. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s orgasm building as well as his own and, lost in each other, they abandoned any pretence of pacing. Aziraphale sped up both his thrusts and his hand, brushing his thumb over the tip of Crowley’s cock with each pump.

Crowley managed to find his voice again for just long enough to say, “Angel, I’m gonna-“

Aziraphale claimed Crowley’s lips in a hungry kiss, leaving Crowley to moan into his mouth as he came, his hips sputtering around Aziraphale’s cock. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hole clench around him and his own pleasure reached its climax. He broke the kiss and rested his head on Crowley’s chest.

They stayed like that for quite some time, neither of them having the presence of mind to count the exact amount.

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, “Are you alright?”

Crowley spluttered for a moment, “Better than alright, I’d say.”

With some reluctance Aziraphale moved so he could lie beside Crowley, cleaning the mess they’d made with a snap of his fingers. He leant over and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s temple.

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale said, “Do you want to go to sleep? I think that’s what people generally want to do after –“

“You’re rambling, angel,” Crowley said fondly, turning his face to the side so he could kiss Aziraphale properly. “And that depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” Crowley’s voice was vulnerable, like he was almost scared to ask.

“Of course I am,” Aziraphale replied, lacing his left hand with Crowley’s right.

Crowley looked like he was going to say something more, but instead be turned his back to Aziraphale, their hands still linked, and curled up against his body. Oh yes, Aziraphale could certainly get used to this. And if he spent the next eight or so hours doing nothing but admiring Crowley while he slept, that wasn’t the business of Heaven, Hell, or anyone else who thought they could interfere with them. They finally had what they had longed for all these years, and no one was going to take it away from them.


	2. 2

“You’re sure you want to have this conversation?” Crowley asked. Things had been good, incredible even, but Aziraphale had had to bring this up.

“I am,” Aziraphale insisted.

“You aren’t going to like it,” Crowley warned.

“I’m sure I can handle it, I’ve certainly had my suspicions for quite some time.”

“You have?” Crowley hadn’t been expecting that.

“Well, it was the one topic we never brought up, and I have been able to tell when you’re obfuscating for quite a while now.” Aziraphale sat behind his desk, his expression maddeningly calm. Crowley tried to think of something, anything to avoid the conversation.

“I bet you’re wrong,” Crowley said, “about some of them at least. ‘Sides, most of it was for work.” Crowley rolled his eyes at Aziraphale’s surprised expression.

“Well, if you’re so sure, why don’t we turn this into something of a game?” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley balked at that. A game? Of them guessing who the other had slept with? Only Aziraphale would come up with something like that. Oh Sa- Somebody, he was actually going to have to do this.

Crowley slumped into the chair opposite Aziraphale. “Fine. Shoot. Go ahead,” he grumbled.

Aziraphale took a moment to examine him, like he was trying to put together a puzzle.

“John Holland.” Aziraphale’s words hung in the air. Crowley winced; he had really, really hated the 14th century.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at Aziraphale. He was right, this was a terrible idea. He really didn’t need to be reminded of all of his many failures.

“Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not trying to hurt you, but this is something we should talk about. I’d just prefer the information be out in the open. But if you want us to never mention it again afterwards, then I’m happy to comply with that.”

Crowley mentally berated himself for being so whipped for his angel. But Aziraphale was right, they did need to have this conversation. And Crowley would be lying if he wasn’t curious about Aziraphale as well, after all, he’d certainly known what he was doing the previous night.

“Aright, let’s get it over with,” he said, gesturing out with his arms to welcome the onslaught of questions Aziraphale no doubt had waiting for him.

Aziraphale pursed his lips in thought. “The Viking girl? Ingrid, wasn’t it?”

That made Crowley laugh, “Hah! Absolutely not!” Crowley paused for a minute to try and contain his laughter. “We were just friends; besides, she wasn’t interested in anything if it wasn’t metalwork. I think the modern word for it would be aromantic asexual.”

“I suppose I had assumed-“ Aziraphale began.

“That I fucked every human I had any sort of connection with. Give me some credit, Aziraphale.” Aziraphale opened his mouth, but Crowley cut him off. “And that means I didn’t sleep with Leonardo or Shakespeare either.” Aziraphale closed his mouth.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all, it wasn’t often Crowley managed to render Aziraphale speechless, even if it was only for a second.

“So I can assume you didn’t sleep with Diogenes?”

“He was 89 for Hel- for someone’s sake!”

“You were a great deal older than 89 at the time,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Well yeah, but he wasn’t all there, so . . .” Crowley trailed off. “Look,” he said, “there are basically only two reasons I ever slept with a human. 1. It was a job, or 2. They reminded me of you. OK?”

“Oh, Crowley –“ Aziraphale began.

“Just- don’t.” Crowley shook his head.

Aziraphale sighed but went back to his list, “Well, you mentioned bacchanalias in Baiae so I think I can safely assume that much.”

Crowley nodded, “Though if we’re counting work, the list just got a lot longer.”

“It can’t have been that many, or I would have heard about it, I’m sure,” Aziraphale said.

“Yeah. Well. If I could do some other temptation, I did. I avoided it. Mostly.” Crowley was fucking this up, he was sure of it. But it felt . . . not terrible to be telling Aziraphale all this. Aziraphale had always been the only person he could talk to about everything else; maybe it made sense that they could talk about this as well.

“There was – when was it – the flood in Egypt, the one where you were an envoy from Israel?”

“872 BC,” Aziraphale supplied helpfully, “you were avoiding me.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened, “I had wondered what your position at Court was.”

“Well. Now you know.” He’d found some of his bravado. “And there were the Vestal Virgins, not an accurate name by the way.”

“I might have guessed,” Aziraphale said wryly, “I remember the way you looked at the time.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think happened,” Crowley said, trying not to blush at the way Aziraphale was looking at him, “but I didn’t sleep my way through human history. If we aren’t counting work, then I’ve slept with five people because the person reminded me of you.”

Aziraphale made the face that meant he was trying not to smile. “And they were?”

“You know about John Holland, there was a gardener in Babylon, Copernicus, Ingrid’s blond friend, and Faith.” Crowley counted them off, yeah, that looked about right, he felt a bit bad about forgetting two of their names, but he was a demon, so he let it go.

“Who was Faith?” Aziraphale asked.

“Remember the Great Frost?”

“Vividly.” Aziraphale smiled, remembering how many hours he’d spent wondering how Crowley had ended up in Dublin. Of course, he knew why now.

“Well before I somehow subconsciously teleported myself to your doorstep and you swept in to save me from hypothermia, I got trapped at a house party because we got snowed in, and she happened to be there as well. She was stupidly nice to me and kept arguing with me about everything.” Crowley had to laugh at himself, he was so predictable.

“So you slept with her?” Aziraphale asked.

“Let’s face it, it’s pretty in line with my tastes.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale meaningfully.

“I suppose it’s your turn to ask me, then,” Aziraphale said, biting his lips and twiddling his thumbs.

“What’re you so nervous about?” Crowley demanded, “I just admitted to being a pharaoh’s sugar baby. What could you possibly have done that was worse than that?”

“Yes, but-but I – You have the excuse of being a demon, I certainly wasn’t supposed to-to ever,” Aziraphale stumbled over his words.

“Disscreet Gentlemen’s club,” Crowley said, not meaning to hiss. He wasn’t still jealous, not anymore, anyway. But he had been for quite some time.

“Well, yes.” Aziraphale stopped twiddling his thumbs, “There were, um, two patrons there who I . . .”

“Fucked?” Crowley suggested. Aziraphale hummed in agreement.

“And there was, um . . .”

Aziraphale was definitely going to take a while, Crowley decided to speed things up, even if it meant admitting that he’d thought about (and definitely sulked about) his suspicions. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Oh goodness no!” Aziraphale laughed at that, “He was simply a very dear friend. No, it was one of his friends, Ted Aynesworth.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with trepidation in his eyes.

Crowley exhaled loudly, “Aziraphale, we’ve been around for all of human history, I’m not about to get angry at you for something you did while I was having a hundred-year nap while we were each other’s sworn enemies, at least officially.”

Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Thank you.”

Crowley groaned, he was going to have to say it, “And you were right, we did need to talk about this.”

That got Aziraphale’s smug smile back. He stood up and made his way around the desk, so he was standing right in front of Crowley. Crowley could feel his corporation’s heart speed up, he wondered if he’d ever get used to having Aziraphale so close to him. He breathed in the smell of fresh baked brioche, underlined slightly by Aziraphale’s cologne and the smell of old books. He could never have been angry at Aziraphale for this, they truly couldn’t have had what they had now a moment sooner, and he could still feel Aziraphale’s promises of forever echoing through him, like his body was trying to etch it into every part of his being. He took his sunglasses off, he knew Aziraphale liked to see his eyes.

“It’s probably a good thing you only asked about other people,” Crowley said, sensing an opportunity.

“Oh? What else could I have asked?” Aziraphale said, confused. Crowley reached his hand out to trace Aziraphale’s hip with his thumb.

“You could have asked me how many times I touched myself wishing it was you,” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale visibly swallowed. “I suppose I would have to come clean about the exact same thing.”

“Wait, what?!” Crowley froze, only for a second, “You-“

Aziraphale chuckled, “My dear, when have you ever known me to deny myself any kind of pleasure? And this one is certainly easier to obtain than good crêpes.”

Well that mental image was certainly sexier than it had any right to be. Crowley, realising, he wasn’t going to form coherent thoughts for some time, decided to stand up and kiss Aziraphale senseless.

If Crowley had realised this was how that conversation was going to end, he wouldn’t have put up so much of a fight about having it.

The first coherent thought Crowley managed to have was an idea. He snapped his fingers and the blinds all over the bookshop fell down, ensuring there was no view outside from the street.

He pulled away from the kiss and met Aziraphale’s gaze. “If you want me to stop, just tell me,” he said. Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley knelt before Aziraphale, earning him a sharp intake of breath as Aziraphale realised what he was going to do.

He began to undo Aziraphale’s fly (where his angel’s Effort was rapidly becoming more visible), but quickly realised that it was going to take far too long to undo the fly, get Aziraphale’s suspenders off and deal with the other myriad of undergarments, so he simply snapped his fingers, making all the garments covering Aziraphale’s bottom half sink to below his knees.

Never one to resist putting on a bit of a show, Crowley looked up to make sure Aziraphale was watching him before he licked a stripe from the base of Aziraphale’s cock to the tip, enjoying the way Aziraphale shivered at his touch.

It is, in fact, a myth that snakes can unhinge their jaws. Snakes actually have two lower jawbones. These look like a regular jawbone but cut in half. The fact that their jaw isn’t fused is how snaked are able to swallow prey that is sometimes larger than the size of their head. Crowley was taking advantage of that fact, by allowing his serpentine essence to alter his corporation slightly, allowing him to swallow Aziraphale’s entire length with enthusiasm.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, moving his hands so they were buried in Crowley’s hair.

Crowley hummed and swallowed around Aziraphale’s length, loving the feeling of his tip brushing against the back of his throat. He felt Aziraphale’s hand tighten in his hair as he moaned softly into the empty space of the bookshop. The heat of it all shooting down between Crowley’s legs.

The sound of splintering timber made Crowley look up at where Aziraphale’s hand was gripping the top of his desk. Oh, that was unbelievably hot, he always forgot how strong Aziraphale was underneath his unassuming persona.

Crowley allowed his tongue to become long and forked, using it to encircle Aziraphale’s cock, making his angel jolt against him and pant slightly.

“How-how are you doing that?” Aziraphale exhaled.

Crowley wasn’t about to stop what he was doing to answer that. He pumped Aziraphale with his tongue, revelling in Aziraphale’s pleasure.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, “Crowley! Just like tha- Oh!” And that nearly made Crowley discorporate on the spot. He sped up his pace, which made Aziraphale’s hand pull harder on his hair. Crowley tried not to think about how much that turned him on, this was about Aziraphale’s pleasure, not his.

“I think I’m going to-“ Aziraphale whispered, moaning softly, as if he was still afraid of being found out. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s cock stutter in his mouth and he opened his throat, determined to swallow all of Aziraphale’s cum, only letting the cock out of his mouth when he was certain there was nothing left.

Aziraphale pulled himself together somewhat, tutted at the state of his desk and fixed the break with a snap of his fingers. Crowley sent him a shit-eating grin from his seat. Aziraphale was a mess, his pupils still blown wide and his pants around his ankles, but there was something behind his eyes, something that made Crowley unsure if he was about to say, ‘Oh no,’ or ‘Oh yes.’

“I don’t suppose I can return the favour,” Aziraphale said, bringing his fingers up to snap. Crowley nodded and suddenly his pants were gone. That was probably a good thing, they must have been absolutely ruined from how wet he was. Wet? When had he changed Efforts? Oh yeah, he’d decided Tapas with a raging erection in those tight pants would have been a bad idea. He glanced up at Aziraphale to see if he should change it, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind, kneeling before Crowley’s chair.

Crowley almost came right then, just from the sight of Aziraphale kneeling in front of him, carefully spreading the lips of his cunt with his fingers.

If Crowley had thought the noises Aziraphale made while enjoying a meal were hot, then he wasn’t remotely prepared for the sounds that came from Aziraphale as he licked at the slick around Crowley. When Aziraphale lapped experimentally at his clit, Crowley felt his entire body seize.

“Angel!” he cried, feeling a brush creep onto his face, embarrassed at having come so quickly.

Aziraphale pulled away and spoke primly, as if he hadn’t just been eating Crowley out. “It’s my understanding that its easier to coax multiple orgasms out of this configuration, do you mind if I keep going?”

This was it. Crowley was dead and Aziraphale had killed him with that question. He barely managed to croak “yeah,” before Aziraphale was back on him, swirling his wonderful tongue around his clit in a way that made Crowley buck his hips towards him.

He whined, unable to claim dignity where he had none, when Aziraphale slid one of his fingers inside him, crooking it gently and rubbing insistently against his walls.

Crowley tried to gain some control over his corporation’s breathing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. He knew, for certain now, that all of Aziraphale’s knowledge with this anatomy was theoretical; it wasn’t fair that he was so unabashedly good at this.

It was too much and not enough all at once, Crowley tried to grip the chair he was sitting on the gain some sort of purchase, but he couldn’t do it, his limbs were refusing to listen to him, gone in the throes of pleasure that he could feel himself succumbing to once again.

“Aziraphale,” he breathed, it was the only word he could remember, clenching his thighs around Aziraphale’s head as he came again, slumping further down the chair with a shudder.

Aziraphale pulled away and grinned at Crowley, “I think I have a new favourite dessert,” he chuckled.

Crowley choked at that. He had no idea how he was supposed to survive this, or even if he wanted to. As ways to die go, a little death was certainly the best of them all.


	3. Chapter 3

“No, you’ll just put a sculpture of us ‘wrestling’ on display at the end of a corridor.” Aziraphale laughed.

“I,” Crowley said in his scary demon voice, “am going to find a book you have that’s worse and when I do-“

“Oh yes, I’m sure I’ll be very sorry,” Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley slumped back down into his chair. Aziraphale waited for his expression to relax, as if to say, ‘at least that’s over’, before playing his final card.

“Also, was that the lectern from the church during the Blitz?”

Crowley fell out of his chair. Perhaps that had been going a bit far. 

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale said, amusement still clear in his voice. He offered a hand to Crowley which was used to pull him upright.

Crowley teetered slightly as he righted himself. Aziraphale drank the image of him in. The sunglasses had come off when Crowley had fallen, and he made no movement to put them back on. 

“My dear, if you aren’t furious with me for teasing you so mercilessly, could I persuade you to sober up and accompany me upstairs?” Aziraphale said. This was untrue, that was Aziraphale being merciful. He hadn’t even brought up the mass migration of plants that had begun appearing in his bookshop, which included a fiddle leaf fig that half-obscured his coat rack. But he wasn’t about to waste that titbit when Crowley was already delightfully flushed and stammering. It was so wonderful to see beyond Crowley’s smooth-talking demon persona, it made Aziraphale treasure every moment of the real Crowley.

They both sobered up and Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand to lead him up the staircase. He would never tire of it, this new part of their lives. The advent of their romantic relationship had changed so little in their day-to-day lives, but this, what had once been completely forbidden to them, was something he was sure he could happily do for another six thousand years.

A step below him Crowley stopped when Aziraphale reached the top of the stairs, pulling slightly on Aziraphale’s hand so Aziraphale would turn around to kiss him. Of course, Aziraphale kissed him, slowly, languidly, breathing in Crowley’s spiced scent as he did.

“You know,” Aziraphale whispered, pulling away, “that statue of yours did give me something of an idea.”

Crowley bit back another frustrated groan, “What did you have in mind, angel?”

“Well, I was wondering if, perhaps, we could, change roles tonight?”

“Wha- yeah, if you want to,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale could feel his tension where their hands were still joined.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to,” Aziraphale said because Crowley needed reminding sometimes. Some of the tension in Crowley’s hand abated.

“Well then,” Crowley grinned, letting Aziraphale pull him the rest of the way to their bedroom.

The door closed behind Crowley without either of them touching it. Their hands were put to much better use than opening and closing doors. Without letting go of Crowley, Aziraphale had lied down on the bed and pulled Crowley down on top of him.

Crowley hovered his face inches above Aziraphale’s but only for a moment, before crashing their lips together. Aziraphale felt one of Crowley’s hands work its way through his hair, holding him against Crowley as if there was some risk he might run away, as if he could possibly have wanted to be anywhere but right here.

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s tongue press against his lips, asking permission to deepen the kiss, permission which Aziraphale gladly gave, moaning slightly as he did. He let Crowley lower his head onto the pillow behind him, gasping slightly as Crowley lowered himself on top of him, pushing their Efforts together through their clothing.

Crowley pulled away from Aziraphale, lifting one hand as if he were about to snap his fingers, “May I?”

Aziraphale thought about it. Removing their clothes the human way did have its charm. But in order to do so they would have to move from this delicious position. Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley snapped his fingers and Aziraphale found himself divested of his own clothes, but more importantly, so was Crowley. Aziraphale revelled in the sight.

“Having second thoughts?” Crowley asked, Aziraphale realised he must have been staring for quite some time.

“Not even for a moment,” he promised, only being rewarded with Crowley’s smile for a split second before Crowley’s face was buried in his neck. The kisses Crowley placed there were gentle, almost chaste, until he reached a point, just above where his shoulder began, and bit down.

Aziraphale felt his entire corporation shudder in response, the juxtaposition of the violence of the act and the pleasure it brought him sending his mind reeling. And Crowley seemed to have no intention of letting up.

Faintly, he heard the pop of the cap from the lube that always seemed to appear when it was needed. Aziraphale shifted his legs to give Crowley better access, unable to push down the noise that came longingly from the back of his throat when Crowley pulled away.

It felt like every one of his nerve endings were lying in wait for something, anything. The cool sensation of Crowley’s finger by his hole startled him as the waiting ended. Crowley ran his finger around it a few times, adjusting the way he leant over Aziraphale as he did.

And suddenly Aziraphale’s body was trying to process a lot at once. He could feel Crowley’s finger inside him, carefully pushing against his walls. But on top of that, Crowley was running his tongue over one of his nipples, sending jolts of desire down his spine. As distractions went, it was certainly enjoyable.

Crowley didn’t stop his ministrations as he added a second finger, stretching Aziraphale’s hole with precise movements before tenderly pushing both fingers in deeper and -Oh!

Aziraphale saw stars as he gasped desperately, forgetting that he didn’t actually need to breathe. 

“Crowley,” he exhaled, which seemed to egg him on. Crowley redoubled his efforts (pun intended), nipping softly at Aziraphale’s nipple until Aziraphale cried out, and rubbing his wonderful, clever fingers against Aziraphale’s prostate in turn.

Aziraphale keened desperate for some kind of friction, his hand moving down almost unwittingly. Crowley, quick as a flash caught it. 

“Not so fast,” he said, his voice teasing, “consider this your punishment for teasing me so much earlier.”

If this was how Crowley punished him for teasing, then Aziraphale was going to be doing it a lot more. Not that Aziraphale had the presence of mind to say such a thing.

He could, of course, break out of Crowley’s hold without any trouble, but he couldn’t pretend to want to. Even as Crowley continued his assault on his prostate, leaving him desperate and breathless.

“Crowley! Please!” he said, and it would have been a scream if he hadn’t been so breathless.

“Please what?” said Crowley, clearly enjoying himself.

Aziraphale knew what Crowley wanted him to say. He was always trying to get Aziraphale to curse, something that Aziraphale thought was rather ironic coming from the person responsible for smartphones always autocorrecting ‘fuck’ to ‘duck’. But there was something else he could say instead.

Aziraphale took a deep breath in order to be able to speak. “Put your – ah! – beautiful cock inside me now! Please!” he begged; dignity be damned.

Crowley was only thrown for a second, freezing, before he kissed Aziraphale lightly on the lips and whispered in his ear as if he was divulging a truly filthy secret.

“Ssince you assked so nicely.” The hissing was Aziraphale’s only indication of the effect he was having on Crowley.

Aziraphale whined at the loss of Crowley’s fingers, but he remained still, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Crowley stroking his own cock to apply the lube.

“Ready?” Crowley asked, shifting his weight so he was kneeling over Aziraphale once again.

Swallowing, Aziraphale nodded, looking up at Crowley’s face. He really was terribly beautiful. And watching that beautiful face groan in pleasure as he slowly pushed into Aziraphale was utterly delightful.

Almost agonisingly slowly Crowley began to move, lining himself up carefully so each thrust barely grazed Aziraphale’s prostate, leaving Aziraphale frantic for more. But, unfortunately for Crowley, also leaving him level-headed enough to think about how he was going to get what he wanted. He would try to be nice first, he was the nice one after all.

“Crowley, harder, please,” he sighed into Crowley’s ear.

Crowley gave him a predatory smile and thrust deeper into Aziraphale. It was as though Crowley knew exactly how much he could give before it sent Aziraphale over the edge, and Crowley was determined to keep him floating in a state of heady pleasure without any chance of release. Aziraphale knew he could put an end to it all with one word, but that wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted a word that would make it all happen harder and faster. He wanted everything Crowley was willing to give him, and he wanted it now.

“Crowley! Yes!” He cried out, wrapping his legs around Crowley’s waist invitingly. He hummed appreciatively as Crowley buried himself in him to the hilt. “Mm,” he said, letting his lust colour his voice, “you feel so perfect inside me.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley said, in equal parts frustration and ecstasy. Aziraphale watched Crowley weigh his options and could almost hear his internal “Oh, fuck it!” as he began to ram harder into Aziraphale, wrapping a hand around Aziraphale’s cock and pumping him in time with his thrusts.

Aziraphale was adrift in the sea of his pleasure, unable to think beyond each swell of pleasure that Crowley gave him. It was everything. He could feel his climax approaching with each thrust, like each of his nerves was glowing with pleasure, burning away his sense of anything but Crowley and the wonderful things he was doing to him. He let go of fiddly things like language or the sense of where he began and Crowley ended. He couldn’t have said which of them were responsible for the euphoric cries that permeated the room. He could barely remember his own name. But Crowley’s, Crowley’s he breathed into the air in the language that had existed before time itself as he came. With its namesake following him soon after.

“I can’t believe,” Crowley said, some time later as he snapped his fingers to clean up, “that you think I’m the incorrigible one.”

“I never said you were the only incorrigible one,” Aziraphale said, smugly, his arms outstretched so Crowley could wrap himself around him.

“Takes one to know one,” Crowley yawned, settling in Aziraphale’s embrace and pressing a goodnight kiss to his angel.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley woke up wrapped up and warm. Somehow, despite this having been the way she’d woken up just about every morning since the world didn’t end, it still surprised her, that feeling of safety and comfort. She looked up with heavy eyelids at where Aziraphale could usually be found, reading something far too heavy for anyone to really think of as ‘bedtime reading.’

But he wasn’t resting against the headboard with a book, she looked down, he was curled up against her, deeply asleep.

“Angel?” Crowley murmured. This was certainly unusual. Aziraphale didn’t sleep, and even if he did, he’d never sleep later than Crowley. But there he was, intertwined with Crowley and completely asleep.

Crowley watched him for a while, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only movement between them. He did look beautiful in his sleep, Crowley supposed she was lucky to be the first being to get to see such a thing. But the circumstances worried her. They had warded Tadfield, Crowley could remember that much. She supposed he must have driven them back to the bookshop, but everything from the moment the ritual had ended to the present was a blur. 

“Angel?” She tried again, unable to repress that sigh of relief that overcame her when he turned around, his eyes half-open.

He hummed in answer, burying his head under her chin. So he was alright, thank Someone for small mercies. She’d be lying if she’d said she’d never thought about moments like this. She’d daydreamed quite a bit about what she would do if Aziraphale decided to take up sleeping: She’d always thought about the way his face would light up if she brought him breakfast in bed or some other ridiculously sappy romantic idea that she’d never admit to having aloud.

She considered the breakfast in bed idea once again as she lay, wrapped in Aziraphale and his cotton sheets of some ridiculously high thread count. But she couldn’t even think of moving, and what little resolve she had broke the second Aziraphale pulled her closer with one of his legs. No, she wasn’t going anywhere for a long time. 

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s warmth, until Aziraphale opened his eyes.

“You alright?” she asked.

“I think the warding took quite a bit out of me, but I’m perfectly fine.” Aziraphale said, tilting his head back so he could look at her. Crowley was glad she couldn’t sense love like he could, it would definitely be too much for her to handle, even seeing it in his eyes made her throat close of its own volition.

“You sure?” she said, feeling Aziraphale’s answering hum more than she heard it.

She bent down to kiss him, just gently, on the lips. She had not been expecting Aziraphale to deepen the kiss as soon as he had the opportunity. 

“Good morning,” she laughed pulling away only to kiss him again.

“I believe it’s the afternoon, actually,” Aziraphale said before going right back to kissing her.

Crowley didn’t bother trying to come up with an exasperated retort, they had broken their kiss enough times already.

She could feel Aziraphale’s hand gently moving its way up her thigh. There really were a lot of perks to wearing dresses. She shivered slightly as he ghosted his hand over the front of her underwear, before keening into him as he rubbed his palm against her hard cock, straining against the fabric.

“Aziraphale!” she exclaimed hoarsely. “Don’t start something you aren’t going to finish.”

“What makes you think I’m not going to finish you, my love?” Aziraphale replied. “Tell me,” he said, “how attached are you to these?” he said, stroking her underwear lightly.

“Didn’t exist until yesterday,” she said, at least she assumed it had been yesterday, “don’t care about ‘em.”

“Perfect,” Aziraphale said. Somehow, even while completely exhausted, Aziraphale still managed to be in control of his angelic strength. There was the sound of ripping fabric and her cock was free. 

Crowley’s snarky retort of “you could’ve just miracled them away,” got lost somewhere on the way to her mouth. She was almost grateful that Aziraphale had stopped touching her, so she was able to remember that while she didn’t care about her clothing, Aziraphale certainly did, so she demonically miracled his clothing to somewhere else in the room. Well, definitely somewhere in the bookshop.

It was very difficult to worry about where exactly Aziraphale’s clothes had ended up when the newly naked Aziraphale wrapped his hand firmly around her cock and began to pump. He was careful to keep his rhythm just enough that she could feel herself fall apart with each stroke, but not so much that she would be able to come.

“Bastard,” she whispered lazily.

“Does that mean you want me to stop,” he whispered back.

“Don’t you dare.” Crowley reached her hand over, but Aziraphale stopped her with his other hand.

“Can I try something?” He asked. Crowley nodded, impressed that Aziraphale had the energy to be doing anything, her need for Aziraphale was all that was standing between her and complete exhaustion that was only making itself more apparent the more awake she became.

Aziraphale pulled them closer together, wrapping their legs together so their hips lined up. Crowley felt a jolt of desire as he pressed their cocks together, wrapping his hand around both of them.

Crowley let herself fall bonelessly into the pleasure, too tired to push away the moans that cascaded from her lips, encouraging Aziraphale. 

“Faster, angel, please,” she begged, her eyes half-closed against him. She felt Aziraphale’s legs tense around her as he began to stroke them both in earnest. Her mind seemed to shut off anything that wasn’t Aziraphale and the feeling of his hand pumping their cocks together. She could feel herself getting close, her hips rocking into Aziraphale as she chased her release.

“I’m-“ she began.

“Let go,” Aziraphale whispered, knowing what she was about to say. And, oh, she did, her release crashing over her and leaving her breathless. She felt Aziraphale continue to stroke, once, twice, three times, before he followed her, sighing as he did.

Crowley cleaned them with a demonic miracle, knowing that if she didn’t do it then, they’d both fall asleep before it happened.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked up at her through his eyelashes. 

“Just a little longer,” he said, perhaps to her or perhaps to himself. Crowley opened her arms to him, only letting sleep claim her once he was pressed against her again.


	5. Chapter 5

When they got back to Soho, Crowley was feeling too antsy to go back to bed. It might possibly have had something to do with the fact that he was worried that, if he went back to sleep, he might accidentally sleep through another century. He didn’t like the idea of waking up only to find that Warlock was a grandparent.

Agitation and boredom were seldom a good combination even when they weren’t combined in a demon. The last time Crowley had been this bored, itching for something to do, he had created the Dancing Plague of Strasbourg. He recalled that Aziraphale hadn’t exactly approved of that course of action, so it was probably best to limit his mischief to the bookshop. He didn’t want to end up sleeping on the proverbial couch, so to speak.

Aziraphale was poking around the bookshop, adding a few extra coats of dust to books that had the gall to look appealing to customers. 

The doors in Aziraphale’s shop were not in any kind of logical order. They had been, once, back when the wine cellar had been a broom cupboard, and Aziraphale had only just began leaving his mark on the store. But now, 219 years after Aziraphale had opened the store, the assortment of doors was something of a lottery. And Crowley had said he would keep his shenanigans in the shop. 

He opened several doors that lead to more books, stacks of books that didn’t quite fit with the aesthetic of the shop: Including, Crowley noted with vindictive pleasure, awful romance novels, including several of the Mills and Boon variety. This could be fun, but it wasn’t quite enough to make Crowley go looking for Aziraphale to point it all out. 

He came to another door, hidden behind a few shelves behind Aziraphale’s desk, and opened it. It was as if someone had just handed Crowley the keys to the Bentley for the first time.

“Oi, Angel!” He called. 

He heard Aziraphale bustle over to him. “Yes?”

“What’s this?” Crowley said, grinning broadly. He was holding up what looked like an overly decorated sheet-ghost costume. This was not, however, what it was. In fact, Crowley had seen this particular ensemble before, once at Kinclaven Castle and again at Norte Dame Cathedral in Paris. 

“Those are my priests robes, Crowley. You’ve seen them before.” Aziraphale said impatiently.

“You’ve kept them for what, eight-hundred years?”

“Well, you never know when you might need them again,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley raised his eyebrows at that, “Planning on going back to work, are you?”

“You know I’m not,” Aziraphale said, “I suppose you’re going to tell me I ought to throw it out?”

“I never said that,” Crowley said slyly. He could feel Aziraphale watching him closely as he circled him. He was going to have to be fast. As quick as a strike from his snake form, he wrapped the robes around Aziraphale’s shoulders and laughed.

“Sorry daddy, I’ve been ever so naughty,” he said with mock remorse.

“Crowley, for the last time, it’s ‘forgive me father for I have sinned’,” Aziraphale said, this was not the first time Crowley had made this joke.

“S’what I said, isn’t it?” Crowley said innocently.

“It is not,” Aziraphale said firmly. But Crowley wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.

“It’s been a long time since my last confession,” he drawled. “In that time, I have committed many mortal sins.” He draped himself across Aziraphale’s chaise lounge, which had sensed that it was needed and appeared in the walk-in closet.

“Oh?” said Aziraphale, still not quite sure what Crowley was up to.

“I’ve corrupted humans, countless ones, started wars . . .” Crowley trailed off before taking off his sunglasses and sending Aziraphale the sort of glare that would send someone week at the knees, the sort that even Aziraphale wasn’t immune to.

“I’ve tempted an angel,” Crowley said slowly, as if he were tasting the words as he said them.

“Yo-you have?” Aziraphale said, as if he wasn’t the exact angel in question.

“I have,” Crowley confirmed. “But that’s not the worst of it.”

“It isn’t?”

“Oh, no. I’m terribly guilty of the sin of lusst,” Crowley hissed, enjoying the way Aziraphale leant forward as he said so. 

“Perhaps you should tell me about that,” Aziraphale said, blushing slightly as he played along, “so-so I can absolve you, of course.”

“Of coursse.” Crowley echoed. “Would you prefer to hear the resst of my confesssion somewhere private.” He gestured over to the staircase.

“Yes. Quite right.” Aziraphale made his way over to the staircase, walking as primly as ever, as if he was on his way to find a book, and not about to do what they were about to do. Crowley followed him up the stairs, slinking ahead to open the door for Aziraphale. True, they didn’t actually need to open doors with their hands, but Crowley wasn’t one to let facts get in the way of his plans.

“So . . .” Crowley started, arranging himself on the bed.

“I believe you were continuing your confession,” Aziraphale said lightly.

“Yeah,” Crowley said, teasing, “where was I?”

“I believe it had something to do with the sin of lust,” Aziraphale said, sitting gently on the bed.

“How much time do we have?” Crowley scoffed, wrapping himself around Aziraphale.

“Maybe pick one instance and we can figure the rest of your penance out later,” Aziraphale suggested, as if he was discussing a nice brunch and not the prospect of punishing Crowley for sins that he didn’t regret in the slightest. Though, he’d be lying if the idea of Aziraphale punishing him didn’t do something to him, it certainly made it hard to concentrate on speaking.

“Y-yeah,” he said. “One instance . . .” 

1527 Rome

Aziraphale had touched him. Aziraphale had touched him. Yeah, he knew he was supposed to be equal parts fucking up and helping protect the city of Rome, but Aziraphale had touched him. He’d always been so scared that he might hurt Aziraphale if he did so. Yeah, they’d touched before, but not for centuries. There had to be a reason they’d stopped, hadn’t there? Well, other than the obvious one. Crowley wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop if they started.

Surely Aziraphale could have just miracled him out of the way, or diverted the cannonball or turned it into a vase of flowers or something? Why did he choose instead to grab Crowley by the wrist and pull him away?

He did a quick turn about the city and, after making sure he was holding up his end of the Arrangement, had fucked off to Naples as quickly as he could. Yeah, that had involved riding a horse, not exactly a fun time. But he’d certainly had his fun once he’d arrived.

2019 Soho

“You brought up 1527 before, didn’t you?” he said. He was leaning his head against Aziraphale’s thigh, looking up at his angel.

“I did,” Aziraphale said, clearly not sure where this was going.

“Did I ever tell you what happened after?”

“No, why? Wha- Oh,” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley a heated look which he returned.

“I think, it might be easier if I tell you and show you,” Crowley suggested. Aziraphale nodded, his eyes still fixed on Crowley’s. Crowley sat up, or at least, got himself into an upright position, before sitting behind Aziraphale, his legs handing off the bed on either side of Aziraphale’s. 

Crowley rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder, it was the perfect position from which to whisper to him, like he was telling some terrible secret. In fact, until recently, it had been a terrible secret. He imagined what it would be like to go back and tell himself, nearly five hundred years ago, what he was doing at that very moment. He probably wouldn’t have believed himself.

“Well,” he whispered, “It started like this.” He wound his hands around Aziraphale, reaching for the top of his trousers. The trousers sensed that they were standing in between two very powerful supernatural beings, who were not above abusing holy and diabolical powers to get what they wanted, and had the good sense to come undone at the slightest provocation.

Crowley felt Aziraphale lean into his touch as he gently ran his fingers over his angel’s Effort, still trapped behind a frustrating layer of fabric. 

“I closed my eyes and pretended it was you,” he breathed, running his palm up Aziraphale’s length. “I knew I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway.”

He could feel Aziraphale’s breathing stutter as he continued to touch him. The reaction in itself was wonderful but Crowley wanted more. He slipped a miraculously slick hand beneath the waistband of the boxers and wrapped his hand around Aziraphale’s cock properly, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“I stayed in that room in Naples for hours,” he whispered, “touching myself over and over at the thought of you.” He increased his pace, relishing every sound he managed to coax from Aziraphale’s lips, it was as if every sound Aziraphale made had a direct connection with his own cock, one that was exacerbated by the way Aziraphale was wriggling back into him. “Angel, you had no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, pumping Aziraphale’s trembling cock at an unrelenting pace.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale exhaled brokenly. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s muscles tensing, almost shaking against his own. He kept going, even as Aziraphale let out a loud gasp, his hips stuttering out, until Aziraphale came with a half-choked moan.

Aziraphale fell backwards against Crowley as he regained his breath. Crowley leant back so Aziraphale could rest his head on his chest. He looked completely innocent, resting there with a carefree smile on his face. But Crowley knew better, he knew the smug bastard smile when he saw it.

“What?” he said, his voice coloured with amusement.

“I was just thinking,” Aziraphale said, “about what your penance ought to be.”

Any snarky retort of Crowley’s got caught in his throat. “W-what were you thinking?” he asked.

“Oh, I have something in mind, but I think I’ll need you to continue your confession for that.” Aziraphale sent Crowley a positively evil look, no one so angelic should have been able to look that evil, but Aziraphale pulled it off. “But I think for now, I’ll settle for returning the favour.”

“You don’t have to-“ Aziraphale silenced Crowley with a look. Aziraphale turned and ran a hand up his clothed thigh, gently pinching some of the denim as he did. Crowley could tell he was debating the merits of tearing his jeans off him, the though running straight to his cock. True, he was a fan of these pants that he’d miracled into existence, but at that moment, they were standing between him and something he wanted more than he wanted ridiculously tight pants. He nodded at the question in Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale hummed in concentration before the sound of shredding denim filled the room. Crowley forgot how to speak as he saw Aziraphale peeling back the remains of what had been his trousers with a meticulous expression fixed on his face, like he was pouring over one of his manuscripts that needed repair. That made a lump form in his chest. Aziraphale was so careful with him. 

Aziraphale licked his lips and looked up, daring Crowley to guess at what he was about to do, before he carefully pressed his lips to the head of Crowley’s cock, slowly engulfing it in the warmth of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Crowley gasped, “Aziraphale!” He could almost see the corner of Aziraphale’s lips turn up at this, the bastard.

And then Aziraphale hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, running his tongue over the tip, and Crowley came undone. He was vaguely aware of his torso falling back against the bed, bit it seemed like such a trivial detail when Aziraphale was doing that to him. He lost track of every detail except Aziraphale, his mind lost all ability to form any coherent thought that didn’t revolve around the way Aziraphale’s tongue felt, swirling over his cock. He couldn’t have said what day it was, what year even, all he knew was that he wanted, no, needed this.

He could feel himself succumbing to the waves of pleasure. He managed to cry out. “Angel, I-“ which seemed to make Aziraphale double down in him, pushing Crowley’s cock to the back of his throat as he came with a shudder.

As comfortable as he was against the bed, with Aziraphale slowly moving up to lie beside him, Crowley was still reluctant to fall asleep.

“It’s OK,” Aziraphale said as he watched Crowley fight off the closing of his eyes. “I’ll be right here.” And with a snap of Aziraphale’s fingers he was in his favourite spot, wrapped in blankets with his head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder while he read.


	6. Chapter 6

It was almost too much for Aziraphale to look at. If anyone had told him, even a year ago, that he would one day be doing this, he never would have believed them. The sight before him was something he was determined to commit to memory, something he would remember even if he forgot his own name. 

The sight was, of course, Crowley. He was lying back on the bed, gazing up at Aziraphale with heavily lidded eyes. His breath hitched with each of Aziraphale’s movements. Aziraphale twisted his hands inside Crowley once again, making his back arch as he keened into the touch. 

Aziraphale loved this, the sight of Crowley coming undone before him before finally, well, coming. 

“Angel!” Crowley moaned brokenly. Aziraphale had been pushing Crowley’s corporation to it’s limit for a few hours now. It really was entirely Crowley’s own fault.

Crowley had insisted that there was nothing Aziraphale could do that would prevent him from sleeping for an entire day. Aziraphale had decided to take that as a challenge.

“There’s nothing at all I could do to convince you otherwise?” Aziraphale had teased, running a hand up Crowley’s pyjama-clad thigh. 

“Depends,” Crowley said, smiling as he pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. “What did you have in mind?”

Aziraphale had rellished in taking Crowley apart, slowly adding fingers and pressing them against Crowley’s prostate until Crowley was desperately fucking himself on Aziraphale’s fingers, desperate for more.

Crowley managed to catch his breath for just a moment. Darn, Aziraphale must have gotten distracted by the beauty laid out before him. “Either fuck me or let me come,” Crowley said.

“You’re not exactly in a position to be making demands, dearest.” Aziraphale twisted his fingers once again, turning Crowley’s speech incoherent. “But I suppose I could be of some assistance.” Aziraphale had to admit he was pushing himself to his limits as well, there was only so long he could resist what a temptation Crowley was. 

He pulled his fingers out. Crowley disguised his subsequent whine as an exhale, which Aziraphale decided not to comment on. He reached over to grab the lube on the nightstand when an all too familiar sound came from behind it on the nightstand. Vivaldi’s  _ Spring _ was obnoxiously cheerful, as if it was blissfully unaware what it was interrupting.

“Angel,” Crowley warned.

Aziraphale put the lube down.

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley continued.

Aziraphale picked up the tablet. This really was terribly inconvenient.

“Aziraphale I swear, If you-” 

Aziraphale sighed. He didn’t like this any better than Crowley did. He snapped his fingers, dressing them. “I can’t just let them think we’ve disappeared again. It’s like you said, better they ask us than go looking on the internet and get all sorts of ideas.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and uttered something that Aziraphale couldn’t make out over his ringtone, but he was sure it wasn’t flattering.

“Hi Aziraphale!” Adam said much too cheerfully. It took all of Aziraphale’s self control not to curse the Them, that was probably why he’d always been advised to avoid getting too close to humans. Aziraphale’s curses could pack a punch. 

“Hello everyone,” Aziraphale said, plastering a serene smile over his irritation.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Wensleydale said to Adam.

“You can go,” Pepper said. “But we’re staying. Isn’t that right, Warlock?”

“Right,” Warlock nodded. 

“Did you lot have a question or are we just chatting?” Crowley said over Aziraphale’s shoulder. He wasn’t doing a great job of hiding his annoyance.

“Yeah,” Adam said, “We were just wondering, how many angels and demons are there?”

“Something in the realm of ten million for each. That all?” Crowley snapped.

“Yeah, than-”

“Great talking to you bye,” Crowley said quickly, ending the call. 

Aziraphale resisted the urge to admonish Crowley for his rudeness in favour of saying, “So, where were we?”

Crowley scoffed, “You think we’re just gonna jump back in after that? You chose to answer. You made your bed and now you can lie in it.”

Aziraphale had to admit that he deserved that, but he wasn’t entirely sure he bought Crowley’s threat. His bark was much worse than his bite.

“Very well then,” Aziraphale said, turning away from Crowley.

“Wait, where are you going?” Crowley asked, surprised, It was nice to know that even after all this time Aziraphale could still surprise him.

“Well, before we started, you said you wanted to sleep, so I thought I’d go downstairs and find a nice book to read. Maybe the Happy Prince, or another of Wilde’s short stories.” Aziraphale turned away again, but he waited for Crowley to respond.

“Yeah.” It sounded like Crowley’s mouth was dry.

“But if there’s something you’d prefer . . .” Aziraphale tried, and failed, not to smile.

“You’re a right bastard, you know that?” Crowley said. Ah, he’d caught on. 

“So you keep telling me.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, restoring them both to the state of undress they’d been in before the call. Crowley barked a laugh.

“Get over here already.”

Aziraphale did, after spending so long teasing Crowley only to spoil the mood later, he was not going to make either of them wait any longer. He all but leapt onto the bed, claiming Crowley’s mouth in a deep kiss. 

“Mm,” Crowley hummed, “eager, are we?”

“Desperately,” Aziraphale promised. He pulled the lube off the nightstand, but Crowley touched his arm.

“Let me,” he said softly. Aziraphale handed the lube over and felt his entire body come alive as Crowley slicked his cock. He pulled himself through the pleasure, he wasn’t going to lose himself to it, not yet, anyway. Still, he was glad that Crowley stopped when he did.

“Angel. Inside me. Now.” Crowley half-begged, half-ordered.

Aziraphale didn’t need to be asked twice. He plunged himself into Crowley, both of them sighing as he did. In the short term, Aziraphale had been waiting for hours to do this, and in the long term, well, Aziraphale had spent enough time longing for this to last several lifetimes.

“Angel - Aziraphale - For the love of something move!”

Aziraphale moved all right. He set into Crowley at a brutal pace that had both of them gasping for breath that they didn’t technically need. He could feel Crowley’s arms wrapped around his back, his fingers clutching desperately at Aziraphale’s shoulders. Crowley pushed back against Aziraphale almost unconsciously, his eyes unfocused, washed out as each wave of pleasure hit him. 

Aziraphale reached a hand between them, carefully taking Crowley’s cock in his hand. It only took two pumps for Crowley to come with a wrecked moan. The walls of his hole closed around Aziraphale as Crowley’s body seized with pleasure. It felt like all of Crowley was pressing against him, pulling him further under and there was no reason for him to resist. 

He thrust one final time, feeling the heat pool between his legs. There might have been a world outside, there might not have been, Aziraphale certainly wasn’t aware of it. All he knew was the warmth of Crowley’s body and how unabashedly good it felt.

Aziraphale let his orgasm wash over him, he knew he should get up, just like he had known all those years ago that he shouldn’t be friends with a demon. He stayed put, not falling asleep, just enjoying the feeling of resting beside (or rather on top of) Crowley.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been the sort of afternoon Aziraphale had always longed for, the sort of idyllic lifestyle that he had never in his entire existence pictured he could have for himself. Spending a day around Woodstock, - all in the name of looking out for Warlock, of course - having a particularly delicious pub lunch at the Bear Inn. He had decided upon ending such a splendid day by leaning across the Bentley (parked very illegally outside the bookshop) and kissing Crowley hungrily. In fact, leaning across wasn’t really achieving the desired result, so Aziraphale found himself with a lapful of Crowley after Crowley must have come to the same conclusion and decided to do something about it.

By some miracle (likely performed by one or both of them) they managed to make their way out of the car and through the front doors of the shop, neither one stopping for something as superficial as air.

They broke apart to mount the stairs for purely practical reasons, Aziraphale kept their hands intertwined, unwilling to sever contact completely. By this point, Aziraphale was confident in his ability to predict how this would go: Crowley would open the bedroom door with the hand Aziraphale wasn’t currently monopolising before immediately resuming their delightful kissing; clothing would be removed either in the traditional human way or through miracle depending on the urgency of the kissing; and they would take their cues from each other with regards to how they should proceed from there. In this particular instance, Aziraphale was right on every count but one. 

Aziraphale sat comfortably on the old antique bed, Crowley standing between his legs and kissing him with abandon. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s cool hands on his thighs and, taking initiative (something Gabriel had always complained he didn’t do enough, though he doubted Gabriel would have approved of this instance) Aziraphale hooked his arms between Crowley’s arms and torso, reaching around his shoulders and pulling Crowley deeper into the kiss.

“Wait.” Crowley pulled away.

Aziraphale stopped immediately. “Crowley-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, angel,” Crowley said, fondness emanating from his tone and gaze, making the anxiety that had was coursing through Aziraphale’s corporation abate somewhat.

“I just have a question for you,” Crowley added. And Aziraphale’s anxiety was back with a vengeance.

“Very well,” he said, wondering when his corporation’s throat had become so dry.

“Why do you always choose that particular Effort?”

Aziraphale blustered for a moment before responding, willing himself to push past the surprising amount of undue embarrassment that he felt. “Well, this configuration always seemed more straightforward. And I’ve read accounts of it being very difficult to-”

“I am going to burn every book in this shop written by a straight man.” Crowley threatened. “Look, if it’s just a preference, I’ll stop bothering you about it. But you’ve never minded when I’ve-”

“Yes, but that’s you,” Aziraphale said.

“Angel,” Crowley said, peering into Aziraphale’s eyes, “What’s this really about?”

“Nothi-” the lie was already halfway out his mouth before he stopped it. He was done lying to Crowley. He sighed, more to himself than anything else and started again. “In truth, I don’t know why, It’s the part that supposedly matches my gender presentation.” Both he and Crowley made a face at that. “And my other attempts at altering my corporation beyond the norm have been met with, well, nothing positive I can assure you.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing positive’?” Crowley demanded.

“Well . . .” Aziraphale couldn’t quite meet Crowley’s eyes as he said this. It was one thing for Crowley to love him despite the unappealing shape of his corporation, but once he knew Aziraphale had done it on purpose, would he still see Aziraphale in the same way? “I have always felt more comfortable having my body in this shape,” he gestured down to himself and found himself wishing he were clothed, having this conversation naked made him feel deeply vulnerable.

He felt Crowley gently move a hand to his chin, lifting it so their eyes met, before running his thumb softly over Aziraphale’s cheekbone.

“A-and,” Aziraphale felt some need to continue, “It has been made perfectly clear to me that this shape is, well, to put it mildly, unappealing.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, his tone soft but deadly serious. “Whoever said that to you - and I have a fair idea of who, but that is a conversation for another day - is a complete fucking moron. When I look at you, and I have done that a lot over the last 6023 years, ‘unappealing’ is the last word I could possibly think of.” Crowley took a deep breath and sat himself down beside Aziraphale. “Well, sorry for spoiling the mood by making you talk about this stuff. But I want you to know that’s bullshit and you shouldn’t be afraid to try stuff with me.  I’m not gonna be an asshole about it.”

“I wouldn’t say you spoiled it,” Aziraphale said, “in fact, I have an idea.”

And that was how Aziraphale found himself lying on his back across the bed with Crowley perched gently between his legs smiling slyly at Aziraphale as he examined Azirpahale’s new Effort. 

Short of using a miracle to make himself drastically more flexible, Aziraphale had no way of knowing what Crowley was seeing. He did have a degree of basic anatomical knowledge in this regard, so he was certain everything was present and correct, or as present and correct as it is possible for a person to be within the large spectrum of human biological sex.

“You sure about this?” Crowley asked for what had to be the fifth time since Aziraphale had suggested it.

“Yes.” Aziraphale said, tiring quickly of waiting.

Fortunately, Crowley did something, snaking his body up Aziraphale’s and kissing him once more. He tasted as he always did, of spices and apples, somehow thrilling and achingly familiar all at the same time. The world, as Aziraphale knew it, had never existed without that scent as a part of it. 

He was still revelling in it as Crowley began to kiss his way down his throat, biting down on the delicate skin in a way that had Aziraphale reeling.

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand massaging the flesh of his thigh, which he only managed to register for a second before Crowley moved that delightful mouth of his lower still and began to tease at a nipple with his tongue. 

He was granted only brief reprise when Crowley moved across his chest to the other nipple, continuing the tantalising ministrations of his tongue with barely a moment for Aziraphale to catch his breath. 

His arousal felt the same as it always did, a thick, almost leaden, heat pooling between his legs while his body tried desperately to understand all of the sensations shooting through it like bolts of lightning. Perhaps it had been foolish of Aziraphale to think it would feel different under these circumstances, but he had done so nevertheless. He might have mentally chastised himself for thinking that a simple change of anatomy could amount to so much despite his knowledge of how completely arbitrary human sex and gender were, but his mind was otherwise occupied. 

He shuddered as he felt Crowley move the hand on his thigh further up, one spindly finger lightly tracing around his folds before zeroing in on his clitoris, making Aziraphale see stars. 

He dimly noted Crowley pulling away from him before once again being rendered almost blind with pleasure by his clever fingers.

“Angel, you should see yourself,” Crowley murmured, easing up slightly on Azirapahle who was torn between the need for more and the relief at being slightly less overwhelmed. “May I?” he asked, placing his other hand at Aziraphale’s entrance, teasing the rim delicately with his index finger.

Aziraphale nodded. Exhaling reflexively as Crowley pressed a finger inside him and flexed, rubbing insistently at his walls making Aziraphale clench muscles he hadn’t had until recently. Through hooded eyes, he saw Crowley flash him a positively dastardly smirk before crooking his finger, tearing a moan from Aziraphale. He repeated the motion again and again and Aziraphale was certain he was never going to feel more  intensely good. 

At least, he was certain until Crowley resumed the ministrations of his other hand, rubbing short, insistent circles around the hood of his clit, sending jolts of pleasure that complimented the movement of the finger inside him perfectly. 

Aziraphale had no sense of how much time had passed, it could have been seconds or hours of wave after wave of pleasure swelling inside him like a crescendo at the end of a classical piece, building up to a finale so intense it transcended human language. And then, the waves crashed around him filling him with a euphoria so unlike anything else. He could not have named the country he was in, he could not remember his own name, but he knew every detail of Crowley and his wonderful, skillful fingers like they were fundamental truths hidden at the core of his being.

He pulled away from Crowley and lay back against the pillows.

“Well?” Crowley asked, bemused.

“I think I have excellent ideas,” Aziraphale replied a little breathlessly.

“That you do, angel,” Crowley promised, “that you do.”


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley could tell that Aziraphale wanted something but wasn’t sure how to ask about it. It was clear in the way he rubbed his thumbs along his waistcoat, in the way he would let his eyes rest on Crowley from behind a book, in the way he would purse his lips like he was about to speak and say nothing. There were very few things that Crowley didn’t notice about Aziraphale, six thousand years of pining did that to a being.

Most of the time, Crowley was happy to wait for Aziraphale to ask whatever it was when he felt ready, but something about this time was making him antsy. Probably because it so clearly had to do with Crowley himself. It made Crowley feel a bit trapped, like he was being watched. Don’t get him wrong: there was nobody he’d rather be watched by, but it did bring a sort of gravity to their interactions that Crowley would very happily have done away with.

Crowley had poured them both a glass of Côtes du Rhône under what seemed to be a very watchful assessment. He’d passed Aziraphale the wine to receive a very measured compliment.

“Thank you, dearest, you really are far too kind.”

“M’not,” Crowley had said almost automatically, hiding behind a sip of his wine. He looked up from his glass and found himself wishing he hadn’t. Aziraphale was smiling his ‘smug bastard’ smile and that was the moment Crowley knew he was in for it. In for what, exactly? He had no clue, but he was either going to really love it, really hate it, or some horrific combination of the two. His money was on the combination.

“Oh, but I think I can safely say that you are,” Aziraphale said, his smile still in place, “You’ve been so kind and attentive today, buying me pastry, scaring customers away, pouring me this delightful red.” His tone was teasing and Crowley could feel his face heating up with every passing word. Maybe he should just get Aziraphale to compliment him when the weather turned cold, it was proving to be a very effective method for warming him up. Crowley dismissed that thought, focusing his brain power on trying to form words. It wasn’t going very well. He sounded as if he were trying to invent new onomatopoeia for the sound heavy cardboard makes when it is shaken. 

Mercifully, Aziraphale dropped his teasing smile, only a mischievous glint in his eyes remaining. “I was doing some research into those, meme things,” Aziraphale said, “silly really, but I can across one that was rather interesting.”

Aziraphale reached over for his tablet and pulled up an image to show to Crowley. “You: my love language is words of affirmation

Me, an intellectual: praise kink”

Of course Crowley understood it immediately, he had basically invented meme culture, and before that pop psychology. The five love languages hadn’t proven to be as demonic as the Myers-Briggs Test or ‘Left-Brain Right -Brain’ nonsense, but he understood the basics.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, and his voice did not tremble in the slightest no matter what Aziraphale might have said.

‘Well, of course, it doesn’t have to mean much at all. Your primary love language is clearly acts of service, but I’ve noticed you respond interestingly when praised. So I was beginning to wonder . . .” Aziraphale trailed off delicately.

It was true, Crowley knew, that he responded very warmly to anything from Aziraphale, especially praise. But he’d always assumed that it had something to do with how starved for affection he was, when he even admitted to it’s existence at all. It was all the stuff he’d buried until he and Aziraphale had averted the apocalypse and suddenly he was allowed to feel things, and he had no clue where to begin sorting through his pile of complexes.

“I wasn’t going to say anything until you did, but I noticed that you become rather concupiscent when I praise you.” Aziraphale said.

“I become rather what?” Crowley asked, trust Aziraphale to shock him out of his stupor by using words no one in their right mind had used this century.

A dictionary flew off the shelf and landed in Crowley’s lap, open to the correct page. Ah, it meant horny. Why not just say horny then? Crowley tried to picture Aziraphale saying it, yeah it was just wrong, concupiscent was probably for the best.

“Right,” Crowley said thickly, not really sure what more to say.

Aziraphale finished his wine slowly, giving Crowley the opportunity to say anything more. 

“Why bring this up now?” Crowley asked, there wasn’t a lot more he could say, and there was no denying the effect Aziraphale’s twinkling, calculating gaze was having on him.

“If you’re amenable,” Aziraphale said, putting down his wine glass and flashing Crowley a positively villainous grin, “I had an idea.”

That was how Crowley had found himself naked and tied up expertly to the posts of their bed with tartan silk scarves. While a clothed Aziraphale checked each restraint. When he had agreed to this, Aziraphale had neglected to mention that he would be tied up with tartan. It wasn’t terrible enough that he was going to stop what they were doing, but he made a mental note to get revenge should he ever be in a position to do so. 

“Everything alright? You’re comfortable?” Aziraphale checked.

“I’m fine, not really sure if this is necessary, but fine.” Crowley replied.

“I might not be able to sense lust as you can, but I think I can recognise it in you,” Aziraphale replied primly. Crowley smiled at him fondly, if nothing else, being laid out for Aziraphale to enjoy was something he would like very much.

“You look delightful like this,” Aziraphale said, kneeling between Crowley’s legs, “the exact picture of temptation.”

Crowley was torn between the desire to tell Aziraphale to shut up and to wrap his legs around Aziraphale, pulling him closer. He could do neither one. They had agreed that if Crowley told him to shut up, he would, but also what they were doing would stop. So with that threat in place and Crowley legs bound he wasn’t able to do anything by writhe against Aziraphale’s fancy sheets.

Aziraphale leant forward, ducking his head to press a chaste kiss to Crowley’s lips. Crowley chased Aziraphale’s lips as he pulled them away, but Aziraphale was faster, moving out of Crowley’s range of movement, and trailing a hand gently down Crowley’s side.

“Absolutely perfect,” Aziraphale breathed. It took all of Crowley’s self-control not to scream at Aziraphale to be quiet. But it certainly had another effect. The small kiss Aziraphale had given his shouldn’t have been enough to send shockwaves of desire through his body, and certainly shouldn’t have made him as hard as he was. Perhaps he was just worked up from the negotiation beforehand. He hadn’t had time to process much as he’d just been so shocked Aziraphale had known about any of this. Aziraphale had laughed at his expression. “I was locked in the Bastille with the Marquis de Sade, Crowley.”

Crowley had pointed out that he’d only been locked up for about an hour before Crowley had shown up and their negotiation had devolved into teasing each other until they’d gotten back on track. Crowley wouldn’t have put it past Aziraphale to seek out the Maquis’ signature for his copy of  _ La Philosophie Dans le Boudoir _ . 

Aziraphle continued to touch Crowley very gently, nowhere that even the horniest seventeen year old would consider to be an erogenous zone, whispering little compliments after each brush of his hand. “So wonderful for me,” “Utterly enchanting.”

And yeah, maybe Aziraphale had a point. So far, aside from the fact that Crowley was naked and tied to a bed, nothing particularly X-rated had transpired. But that hadn't stopped his corporation from responding as it this was the most sexual situation it had ever been in. 

His cock ached for some kind of attention, but Aziraphale pointedly ignored it. Crowley understood why Aziraphale had decided he should be tied up now, every instinct in his body was begging him to alleviate the pressure between his legs and Aziraphale had barely touched him. He wasn’t sure if that made the situation better or worse. 

“Angel,” he said, his voice so tight it barely rose above a murmur, “please.”

Aziraphale carefully lifted a hand and ran the back of his finger across Crowley’s cheekbone. “You’re doing wonderfully,” he said and what made matters worse was that he looked into Crowley’s eyes with a truly ridiculous amount of honesty. Knowing Aziraphale meant every word he’d said sent another shockwave running through Crowley. It was as if Aziraphale completed a live circuit every time he spoke, sending electricity sparking through Crowley.

If his words sent sparks then the soft cooing combined with Aziraphale gently pressing a lubed finger to his entrance all but electrocuted Crowley.

Aziraphale prepped Crowley carefully, still whispering to him. Every time Crowley thought Aziraphale must have run out of positive adjectives he somehow found more. But Aziraphale took great care to avoid Crowley’s prostate. Giving him the familiar stretch and burn, but not giving him the ‘more’ that he so desperately needed.

Crowley closed his eyes, trying to somehow will Aziraphale into touching him properly. He felt the faint brush of a miracle pass over him and opened his eyes in surprise, rewarded with the sight of Aziraphale naked, and clearly enjoying what was happening between them.

Aziraphale leant in and kissed him hungrily. Finally. He still broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away to do anything else, he simply waited, his eyes boring into Crowley’s.

“You can’t possibly know what you do to me,” Aziraphale said, his breath warm on Crowley’s face, “and I can’t possibly put it into words. But I think I can show you.” Aziraphale positioned his hips, making Crowley moan more from anticipation than anything else.

“Yes,” He whispered, “please.”

“You’re being so polite,” Aziraphale laughed, “How positively nice of you.”

And before Crowley could even process that statement, Aziraphale was pressing in, his hum giving way to a breathy groan as he did.

“You feel so good, my darling.”

Crowley could have sworn he actually felt a bead of precome drip down from his slit at Aziraphale’s words. He wondered if he could possible come from Aziraphale’s words and gently, G-rated touches (seriously, they were PG at best) alone. Maybe, but not this time. He was too drunk on his own desire and Aziraphale to worry about any kind of orgasm-related experiment and certainly too far gone to keep censoring himself. Fortunately, he had passed the point where he would have told Aziraphale to shut up.

“Angel - Aziraphale, please, I need you to-” And apparently that incoherent, breathy sentence was all Aziraphale had needed to head before changing the angle of his thrusts and setting a brutal pace.

Crowley almost couldn’t see anymore. He could feel pleasure bearing down on him from every direction, no longer able to tell where his corporation ended and he began. He couldn’t think or speak, all he managed to do was cry out desperately as Aziraphale pounded into him again and again.

He could feel himself getting close, the way warmth seemed to build up inside him from his core. Aziraphale wrapped a sturdy hand around Crowley’s cock and that was all it took to send him over the edge, clenching down on Aziraphale who lasted only a few more thrusts before following suit.

“Let’s do that again,” Crowley said breathlessly.

“Soon,” Azirapahle promised, the ghost of a laugh haunting his blissed out face, “but first let's get you untied.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of this is what Furcas witnesses, i.e. the cuddles/aftercare. Obviously, always practice risk aware kink, and don’t tie people up unless you’re sure you know what you’re doing.


End file.
